Moments VII
by illuminata79
Summary: The Shuffle challenge goes on.
A bit of Shuffle Challenge fun to warm up for my next story.

* * *

 _1\. Maxime Piolot: Il calma la tempête_

We jumped onto the beach as the boat's keel crunched upon the sand, water dripping from our hair and clothes, looking at each other and laughing madly, now that the danger was behind us.

The clouds split and golden light streamed down, bathing the battered coast in an unearthly glow that made it hard to believe our boat had almost capsized in the storm and made you wonder why there were torn branches and loose tarpaulins strewn along the beach.

* * *

 _2\. Johann Sebastian Bach: Harpsichord Concerto in A, BWV 1055 (Excerpt)_

I knelt in front of Dan's gramophone with baited breath, heart pounding, and lowered the needle as carefully as I possibly could.

I knew I wasn't supposed to do that, at least in Mom's opinion. Dan had secretly given me permission to listen to whatever I wanted to if they were out, provided that I made sure I didn't damage anything, and shown me how to go about winding up the gramophone.

I had never dared to take him up on it before.

I watched the black disc revolving on the turntable and let out a small sigh when the first festive tones came from the large horn.

* * *

 _3\. Mumford & Sons: Babel_

I printed the name on the postcard in clear big letters, wondering if it would ever reach its destination and whether it would be welcome at all if it did.

After all, it had been years since they had last seen me.

Three years, five months and thirteen days, to be exact, since I had turned my back on the tiny village on the ragged coast of Brittany, leaving behind an empty grave, taking nothing with me but two full canvas bags and an empty heart.

* * *

 _4\. Enya: Orinoco Flow_

Oh, those colours! A riot of colour, bright, clashing, almost too much for the eyes. Flowers, fruit, tiny twittering birds, even a large parrot winging his way over our heads, and two pretty women in dresses of the richest greens and reds and yellows.

I simply stood and watched for a while, soaking it all up to commit it to memory, something to fall back upon during grey uniformity of the long, long days of our next intercontinental crossing.

* * *

 _5\. Roxette: The Look_

Tall, but not quite as tall as I was, long, glossy brown hair with just the slightest waves, big hazel eyes, her body slender with just the right curves in just the right places.

My pulse quickened when she sauntered over to where I sat, drink in hand, and said something with her beautiful, red-lipsticked mouth before she bent down to kiss me fully on the lips.

Heat of a kind I had never felt before shot through me from head to toe, and elsewhere, too, as I responded, tasting her, teasing her, my body moving in time with hers as she wrapped her arms firmly around my back.

I woke up embarrassed, covering myself shamefully.

* * *

 _6\. Fleetwood Mac: Go Your Own Way_

"There's no need to do this just because everyone else does", I said firmly. "If you don't feel like it, just don't do it."

Annie nodded, eyes still tearful. "I know, Daddy. But, you know, the way they looked at me when I said I wouldn't …"

"That's awful for sure. But don't you think they'd let you be the way you are if they were real friends? Would you like Mandy any less if she said she didn't want to get plastered at the weekends?"

"No, you're right. It's just a stupid party with stupid people."

* * *

 _7\. Johnny Cash: Blue Train_

My finger traced an imperfect circle on the misty windowpane, then another. Finally, I wiped a larger section of the glass clear with my sleeve and watched the bleak wintry landscape pass by.

The cold white skies and blankets of snow mirrored my feelings perfectly.

* * *

 _8\. Mazzy Star: Blue Light_

It was getting dark, and the temperature had dropped palpably, but I felt no urge to retreat into the house. I stayed where I was, running my finger along the rim of the empty wine glass I held in my lap, wondering whether to pour me another claret or not to dispel the feeling of uselessness.

I had not been able to work in days because my leg was giving me trouble and I couldn't wear the prosthesis, so even the simplest things were a challenge again like they had been just after surgery.

Hold it, I told myself. You don't want to end up an alcoholic. You've tried drowning your sorrow in booze way too often not to know it wouldn't help.

I almost gave a start when arms came round me from behind and her lips gently nuzzled the back of my neck, whispering my name but saying nothing else.

* * *

 _9\. Sophie B. Hawkins: We Are One Body_

She stretched lazily beside me and yawned, the slats of the half-closed blinds casting a pattern of shadowy and sunny stripes across her face. I smiled down on her, propped up on one elbow, and she smiled back sleepily, drawing the thin sheet back across her lower body.

I was still feeling deeply satisfied with the scent of frangipanis outside the windows and the pleasant summery warmth and the afterglow of a long morning spent entirely in bed, re-exploring each other's obvious and hidden spots of pleasure, something we had not done in a long while.

* * *

 _10\. Frank Turner: Recovery_

Why had I let that guy I'd never seen before me buy me drink after drink in that seedy East End pub?

Well, for the same reason I had been drinking with guys I'd never seen before in Lisbon and in Cape Town and in Singapore, I guessed. To forget, what else.

 _To try to forget, you mean_ , a little voice at the back of my head nagged. _You ought to know by now that it won't do you any good._

 _Oh, shut up, why don't you!_

But it wouldn't fall silent until I actually forced myself out of bed, washed my face and brushed my teeth to get rid of that horrible taste in my mouth. I knew that only too well from experience.

Again, I got up although I didn't want to.


End file.
